


Snowball Fight

by mistyzeo



Series: Holiday Ficlets 2010 [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ficlet for <a href="http://placeofinsanity.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://placeofinsanity.livejournal.com/"><b>placeofinsanity</b></a>!  i have lamented the fact that snowball fights are no longer fun for me, mostly owing, i think, to my lack of excellent snow gloves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowball Fight

At least he waited until Dean put the groceries down, Dean thinks, when the snowball hits him square in the chest. Sam's crouched behind the bush in their measly front law, bright eyes just visible, and he undoubtedly has a whole stockpile of snowballs back there.

Dean wonders if he can remember the last time he bothered to have fun in the snow. Mostly it's a hassle– snow means slippery roads and dangerous woods and long, cold hunts. He doesn't like it in the last when there's a question about whether their dad will make it home.

But now– now maybe he can make an exception. The snow is only a few inches deep, but nice and sticky under his boots as he tromps down the stairs: good for packing. He scoops up a handful and considers it, and then lobs it at the offending bush.

Sam laughs, startled and pleased, and Dean takes another firmly rounded snowball to the elbow. He bends quickly, not wanting to expose the back of his neck to his brother, and a third snowball lands ineffectually in the snow beside him.

He throws two handfuls of snow at Sam, though Sam is at an advantage behind his cover. The impact of the snowballs shakes snow off the bush into Sam's face and hair, and Sam splutters.

"You asked for it!" Dean cries, charging the bush, and Sam in his haste goes down in a heap, limbs scrabbling, crawling backwards in the snow. He's laughing like an idiot, face all pink from the cold, and Dean launches himself at Sam, spilling them both to the ground. They roll once, and Dean realizes the folly of this move because now he is lying in the snow with Sam on top of him, the cold creeping down his neck and up the back of his jacket. Sam is warm and heavy and happy, and Dean grabs him with cold fingers to kiss him.

Sam squirms, kisses back, and puts his freezing hands to Dean's neck. Dean bites his lip, hard, to teach him what for, and Sam yelps.

"You started it," Dean murmurs. He doesn't want to stay here long, but for a moment he's got an excuse to have Sam in his arms. Sam grins and kisses him again, his chilly lips warming fast against Dean's mouth. Dean wraps him up in an embrace, the rustle of his coat the loudest sound, and Sam shifts a little to get their hips lined up.

"Not here," Dean says, but before Sam can look put-out he says, "It's fucking cold, dude! What did you expect!"

Sam wriggles again, teasing, but he pushes himself up to his feet and offers Dean a hand. Snow slides cold and slow down against his collar, and he shivers.

"Inside," he says, giving Sam a push. "I'll make you hot chocolate too, if you're nice."


End file.
